Challenging the gods
by dancer in the mist
Summary: Set in Ancient Greece, in the age of mythology. The son of the titan Epimetheus and godess-like Pandora sets on a quest to rescue Prometheus, with nothing but Hope to guide him.


A/N: Please review and criticize. I am very interested to know, not only what you liked but also what you didn't like about my story

Years had passed since Prometheus had gone to challenge the gods. People mourned him for dead, but nobody knew of his fate. Epimetheus was going to the oracle to ask of his fate each year on the anniversary of the fateful day when Pandora descended from the heavens and his heart was struck with love for her. Each year the oracle gave answer that his eyes are blinded by a higher power and he can see nothing of his brother. At last, his friends advised him to stop going to see the oracle: there were no answers for him, and to persist would be to anger Zeus.  
  
'Prometheus was a rebel and he was punished by the gods', they said. 'Let us be thankful we are not in his stead. We loved him too, but there is nothing we can do. Let us mind our own homes and wives now."  
  
Such is the gratitude of men. They had forgotten of the meeting with Zeus at Mecona, when they had laughed at the Olympian tricked by his own greed, they had forgotten of the fire that was stolen by fearless Prometheus out of love for them.  
  
Epimetheus too was growing old and content with his life. He had a beautiful wife whom he loved, a goddess in beauty and ways, who bore him a son named Corydon, a rich home. The evils escaped from Pandora's box had so far eluded him. He listened to the advice of his friends and went no more to the oracle. But his son grew up, asking more and more questions about the world that his mother and father could not answer. One day, his mother told him the story of Prometheus and her coming into the world.  
  
"Where is he now, mother?" he asked.  
  
"Only the gods know", she answered.  
  
"Why do you trouble the boy with such stories?" Epimetheus scolded his wife.  
  
"Prometheus is dead but we are alive. What good is there to dwell on such stories? Rather tell him of the purpose of man and the might of the gods. Let him know that if he does not trouble the gods, no harm will come to him."  
  
But even as he spoke of the death of Prometheus, he did not believe it. Hope dwelled still in his house. Corydon listened to his father and said nothing more on the matter. But later, at night, he went in secret to the temple of Athena.  
  
Falling on his knees, he implored the goddess to whom nothing is unknown to open the eyes of the seer, so that he could tell him news of his uncle. Athena looked down at this son of man and was moved in her heart. She herself had a weakness for Prometheus the titan and had once wished him for a husband. Out of jealousy, she, too helped Zeus get his revenge on the rebel and in her wisdom she now perceived the injustice of it. So she granted the request of Corydon.  
  
The seer could now tell Epimetheus and his family all that they needed to hear. And for all that he had said, the suffering brother had wished his ears had gone deaf. The oracle spoke of the torment endured by Prometheus on Mount --- through the will of Zeus the unmerciful, and how he still defies the god, even in his agony. Epimetheus and Pandora wept. Pale Corydon was listening with shining eyes. The people who had come to listen to the oracle's words were moved by so much suffering. Yet none would dare challenge the will of Zeus the almighty, lest they should end up like the unfortunate titan. None but Corydon, son of Epimetheus.  
  
To his mother and father's horror, he declared that he would set to rescue his uncle from his cruel punishment.  
  
"If none of you dare, I will go! But let no god from now on say that we are a race of weaklings, who fear even the rumour of torture and would rather cower in their temples, obeying the Olympians' whims!"  
  
Epimetheus answered him:  
  
"Corydon, you have a noble soul and no man or god can accuse you of cowardice. But do not burden your mother and me with the pain of your absence. Stay, I beg you, and gladden our old lives with your youthful ways. I have lost my brother because of his stubborn ways, let me not also lose a son!"  
  
His mother, also, begged of him, in the name of her unborn child, his brother or his sister, who was growing inside her. But neither his father's words, nor his mother's tears could dissuade Corydon. At last, the oracle who had been granted vision by Athena, spoke:  
  
"Corydon, the gods won't grant you favour. Not only Zeus, but whole Olympus is against your going. They feel Prometheus was given a rightful punishment. They fear the offspring of the titans and will seek to subdue you. Stay, son of Epithemus! Much evil shall befall you if you go!"  
  
"Only fear speaks in you, seer, and it distorts your gift of prophecy!" proud Corydon replied.  
  
"While in you, boy, speaks not the love of your kin but a desire for greatness. You wish that men would your glorify your greatness in songs. But it will not be so. With what little gift I have, this do I see: men will forget of you."  
  
But Corydon prepared to leave the following day.  
  
Epithemus, seeing the stubborness of his son, sought to help him for all he could in his journey. He remembered that Hephaistos saw in his brother almost a kindred spirit. And he had also been mistreated by the Olympian Lord. And he proved to be right, because Hephaistos, even if he dared not stand against Zeus openly, had agreed to help the son of Epithemus in secret. And so he clad him in an armour that none could pierce as long as the bearer still had strength to fight, and for his head he made a helmet that felt light and appeared to be no stronger than a feathered hat, but it was woven with enchanted braids, and forged in the fires of Olympus. As weapon, he gave him a spear, that could catch fire when was thrown, becoming thus a deadly weapon for all those in its path. Corydon, clad and armed, felt no less strong or unbeatable than the god he was challenging. A prized posession had he also that was alien to his enemies: in the pocket of his tunic, close to his heart, rested Pandora's box, entrapped within was Hope.  
  
All the villagers had gathered to see him off, as dawn was breaking. Taking leave of his father and mother, he mounted his horse in haste. And all the folk he passed close by, who saw the fire in his eyes, the cold gleam of the dawn reflected in his white armour, as he gazed resolutely ahead, heard in their minds a voice that told them his quest was not in vain.  
  
End of part 1 


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